


Ramasse-moi Quand Tu Voudras

by AvaCelt



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Internal Conflict, M/M, Post-Canon, love through action baby, silent love confessions, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: Liebe wondered what Licita would think of him now, what she would think of his shoes, his new home, and the man he fell in love with. [Post-canon, Liebe-centric, romantic Asta/Liebe]
Relationships: Asta/Liebe (Black Clover), Henry Legolant/Charmy Pappitson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23
Collections: IAmStoryteller's Best of Black Clover Fic Rec





	Ramasse-moi Quand Tu Voudras

**Author's Note:**

> Title roughly translates into _"pick me up when you want to."_

Liebe didn't mean to stare. He'd only meant to spend some time in the only quiet lounge in the house, the little sunroom with ferns and vines crawling up the walls. With its comfortable chairs and relative silence, Liebe meant to spend the day in contemplation, but instead found himself sitting next to the dwarf and the lord of the house as they engaged in their newfound courtship.

Liebe watched as Charmy braided Henry's hair.

The tiny woman had a look of fierce concentration on her face as she tugged, coiled, and pinned strands of blue hair into a fishtail. Henry Legolant, the unspoken lord of the castle they lived in, sat on the floor with his knees brought to his chest. Little blue birds chirped and fluttered around the sunroom as their favorite birdhouse transformed into a long braid bejeweled with emerald and ruby pins. Charmy did it carefully, quietly. Her sheep stood sentry some steps away, holding plates of pins and food because she sometimes liked to munch on an apple or two while her fingers worked the hair with inhuman precision.

The level of detail was mesmerizing. Liebe spied greens and reds scattered strategically throughout the fishtail. Charmy diligently pulled together even strands so that the braid looked more and more alive with every stroke of her fingers.

What captivated Liebe the most was the gentleness in her movements – he never imagined someone could be so careful with another's hair.

Liebe frowned, berating himself for his insolence. Licita had been wonderful. She'd been just as boisterous as Charmy, and just as careful in her own special way. He could never look down on her efforts. She'd tried her best.

But her gentleness was of a different kind, and though Liebe missed her dearly, he wondered, deep down, how it would feel to have someone's fingers comb through his unruly white locks and kiss his horns like Charmy kissed Henry's neck every few minutes. There was tenderness between the lord and the chef that Liebe had never experienced, a softness that existed only between those who loved sweetly, openly. Liebe had never experienced that kind of adoration from someone else, and never thought he would, not after the grimoire had taken him hostage.

But then it had found its owner, and untold feelings began to bloom in Liebe's chest, as if the very Earth had replenished his soul and laid bare his heart.

Now he was here, out of the black book and in the human world, sitting next to a pair of lovebirds canoodling in the presence of little blue birds, an army of sheep, and Liebe's beady red eyes.

“IT'S FINISHED, LA!” She screeched emphatically when she was done. Henry perked up with her exclamation while a sheep carried over a mirror. All three of them stared at the mirror together as Charmy draped the sparkling braid over Henry's shoulder.

“Iiiiit's beauuuuuutiiiifuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuul,” Henry gasped in amazement.

And it was – Liebe stared at the mirror reflecting the blue fishtail adorned with pretty reds and greens, and wondered how it was that the smallest gestures could be the most powerful.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charmy responded with a haughty sniff. She planted a fat kiss on the top of Henry's head and then wrapped her stubby arms around his thin neck. “You're the prettiest thing that ever prettied!” Before Henry could burst into peals of laughter, and Liebe along with him, a loud crash resounded through the sunroom.

All three heads swiftly turned to the entrance of the sunroom where a mop of ash-colored hair lay sprawled on the floor.

“Aaaaaaaastaaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaare youuuuuuuuuuu OOOOOOOOkaaaaaaaaaay?” Henry asked from his place in front of Charmy.

“I'm fine,”Asta squeaked from the floor.

“How did you fall?” Charmy inquired.

“He was spying,” Liebe answered for his partner.

“But why!?” Charmy said with a scandalized tone. “The door's open!”

“I didn't want to interrupt!” Asta cried from the floor.

“But you did,” Liebe grumbled with a hidden smile, because Asta was easy to pick on.

Asta finally got off the floor and dusted himself off. He had his determined face on, an expression Liebe knew spelled trouble. He wondered what harebrained idea his partner had come up with this time.

“I have to disagree, Charmy-paisen!” Asta stated. “Henry-san is definitely pretty, but he's not the prettiest!”

Liebe and Henry both turned to look at Charmy's gleaming eyes. “Ohohoho, a challenge? You're challenging _me?”_

Liebe and Henry gave each other worried looks before turning back to Asta.

“If that's how you want to take it, then yes!” Asta crossed his arms and shifted his gaze from Charmy to Liebe. “The truth is, Paisen, the prettiest one is sitting right here.” Asta gave Liebe a wide smile and Liebe's blood pressure spiked almost instantly. “It's Lie-!”

“Nope,” Liebe interrupted before Asta could finish his name. Liebe's heart thundered in his chest just as his palms began to sweat. “I'm leaving now; have a good day,” he addressed the lord and the chef as he got up to walk out.

And before he could slither out of the room and back to the one he shared with his partner, Asta's hand had a firm grip around his wrist. Liebe pulled his hand once, twice, hissed, and pulled a third time until Asta let out a great big laugh and pulled Liebe into his embrace.

Liebe froze.

“Just you wait, Paisen! I'm gonna braid his hair and show you just how pretty he is!” Asta declared while Liebe wiggled helplessly in his arms. Liebe's ribs ached with the thunderous beat of his heart, and he wondered if he'd soon experience what the humans called a heart attack.

“You'll do no such thing!” Liebe finally retorted with a hiss.

“Yes he will!” Charmy cut him off with a shriek. “I wanna watch as he fails, muahahaha!”

“Chaaaarmyyyyyyyyyyyy, nooooooooooo,” Henry whined.

Asta pulled Liebe off his feet and carried the demon to the others before Liebe could slip out of his arms. Once Liebe was plopped in front of the empty chair next to Charmy, Asta sat down and put his big hands on Liebe's shoulders. Liebe slapped away the hands with his claws and tried to get up again, but Asta was quicker, stronger, and had his lips right up against the shell of Liebe's left ear.

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair,” Asta whined into his ear. “Let me prove her wrong. You know I'm right,” he teased.

Liebe froze again, but this time, a blush crept up his neck and into his pale cheeks.

The lips disappeared, and Liebe barely suppressed his shudder as fingers began to work into his shaggy white locks. Asta and Charmy bickered as the sheep brought Asta plates of pins. Liebe sat quietly in front of Licita's son and looked at the claws in his lap as fingers tugged and smoothed his hair.

Liebe didn't remember anyone ever doing his hair. Even Licita had been nonchalant in that aspect, had simply given him a comb he never got around to using.

He wondered if Asta knew – he wondered if the younger had sensed it when peering into the sunroom, if he caught it like he caught everything else, picked up on Liebe's longing when Liebe himself barely understood what he was longing for.

How did one love openly, sweetly? Liebe didn't know. He only knew that he sought a feeling akin to the one he witnessed between Charmy Pappiton and Henry Legolant when Charmy captured Henry's lips the day she broke his curse.

“See! Six braids!” Asta exclaimed in that annoyingly loud voice of his that seemed to carry the power of a thousand suns.

“Those aren't even braids; those are messy loopies! Stop embarrassing Liebe-chan! Do better!”

Liebe didn't have to look to know that she'd whacked him on the head with a spoon she probably pulled out of her hoodie pocket. Asta whined, and Liebe remained silent, remained still as he wondered what Licita would think of him right now.

“Liebe's still the prettiest,” Asta grumbled behind him, massaging his scalp and gently pressing the pads of his thumbs against the ridges of Liebe's horns. Liebe didn't say anything, just looked at his hands and wondered what Licita would say if she saw him now. A demon clothed in silk and cotton, wearing a Black Bull cape that was still too large for his shoulders, donning shoes made of soft leather – who was Liebe? Would Licita even recognize him anymore? Would Licita recognize the replacement when her actual son walked these halls with his name and his head held up high?

Would Licita understand the tenderness, the open sweetness Liebe saw between others and desired for himself? A kind of love he'd never experienced before, but now desired deeply? Would she accept it, accept that it was directed towards her real son? The one she'd replaced with his filthy, broken body? Would Licita understand love between a demon and a human?

“Done!” Asta shouted gleefully, and broke Liebe out of his reverie. He blinked as Charmy's sheep brought the mirror in front of Liebe, and reflected four heads.

Liebe blinked, looked at the mess of loops and faux braids that had no rhyme nor reason, except that the clumped hairs now had little flowers sticking out of them. Liebe hadn't noticed Asta weaving the thin stalks into his hair, around his horns, didn't know that somewhere along the way, Asta had transformed his head into a garden bursting with wildflowers. Liebe smelled Charmy's garden in the sunroom crawling with vines and ferns, saw Asta's hands gently squeeze his shoulders, felt Asta's warm breath tickle the skin on his neck. Liebe's heart swelled.

“See?” Asta said indulgently with a smile. “The prettiest one in the whole wide world.”

Liebe didn't hear what Charmy said next, or what Henry laughed about, or what _Asta_ laughed about, didn't hear anything except the thundering beat of his own heart, didn't feel anything but the emotions prickling just beneath his skin.

He didn't have to, because the next moment, Asta hoisted Liebe off the floor and into his arms again. Liebe breathed into the hard, warm chest. Asta was ten degrees warmer than he should have been, and Liebe had a feeling it wasn't because of a fever. He picked up his head and stared accusingly into the big green eyes he'd grown unintentionally fond of. Would Licita understand? Did Asta? Why did Liebe have to carry the burden of their intertwined histories? Why did he have to crave for the open sweetness of another's affection, the gentle touch of reciprocated love, why did he have to want things he'd never even _dreamed_ of until Asta had taken his hand and sealed their bond? Why couldn't he have simply perished on that forest floor all those years ago?

Asta pressed a kiss against his lips. It was as if he'd read Liebe's thoughts, sensed his pain, caught onto every single feeling Liebe tried so desperately to keep inside his chest. Liebe closed his eyes, kissed Asta back, thought about how the smallest of gestures truly were the most powerful.

They broke the kiss when Charmy starting laughing. Liebe blushed, hid his face in Asta's chest while Asta broke into his own peals of laughter, his arms around Liebe's shoulders and wings, holding Liebe close, holding Liebe so tenderly and openly that Liebe thought he'd melt right then and there.

“The prettiest one in the whole wide world,” Asta mumbled into his hair. Liebe's breath hitched and he thought that maybe, just _maybe_ there was hope for him after all.

Maybe this love _was_ real, and maybe Asta _did_ know, and maybe, just _maybe –_ Asta loved him as much as Liebe loved him back.

* * *


End file.
